


Along the midnight edge

by blackkat



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, On the Run, Seven Years Later, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 21:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: A threat to the Vongola forces the Family to scatter, and pushes Hibari and Gokudera together as they hunt for an enemy that's far more widespread and cunning than anyone gave them credit for.





	1. Wild, wild the storm

**Author's Note:**

> Story and chapter titles from Walt Whitman's Patrolling Barnegat.

Hayato is only just through Customs when the news footage starts playing.

He freezes in the middle of the airport in Naples, horror uncurling through his as he stares at the screen beside the arrivals board. His knuckles go white around the handle of his suitcase, but he can't tear his eyes away from the image of an explosion, a familiar mansion, a field of rubble in the aftermath.

The tower is gone, Hayato thinks numbly. Collapsed. It was a strong explosion, and centrally placed; whoever set it off didn’t know what they were doing, or they could have taken out the entirety of the Vongola mansion in one blow. Hayato could have set the bomb to destroy most of the outbuildings as well, with enough time and opportunity.

A sloppy attack, too focused on showmanship and a loud bang. Hayato would laugh, except that’s his _home_ wreathed in clouds of smoke, an expanse of collapsed stone and shattered glass.

His throat is thick, and the air swims as if with a heat haze. Hayato grabs for his phone—sloppy, _stupid_ , he didn’t turn it on as soon as he landed, because it’s the middle of the night and he hadn’t wanted to call the mansion, maybe wake someone—and curses at how slow it is to start up, all but vibrating with tension. He wants a cigarette, is ready to light one up right here and now except it will only take him longer to get home if he gets security called on him.

If there's even a home to get to, Hayato thinks, and swears at himself for it. The mobile almost slips from his fingers, but he catches it just in time, sees the flickering notification of a missed text and hits it so hard he almost cracks the screen. There's hot dread sliding through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach, and he thinks of Tsuna caught in the blast, hurt and maybe even trapped, and—

No message. Just an email address he doesn’t recognize from a number he’s not familiar with, but it’s still enough to make him swallow hard. Some form of contact means that people are still alive, but this level of paranoia—it was definitely an attack, and not one of Lambo’s weapons getting out of hand again. Not that Hayato had really thought it would be, but he’d hoped, just a little.

The Vongola have had to face too many attacks, these last few years.

Swallowing hard, Hayato tightens his grip on his phone, then shoves it into his pocket and heads for the front of the terminal as fast as he can without outright running. There's a patch of trees and greenery just across the road, not precisely secluded but close enough at this hour of the night, and he ducks into it the moment he’s sure no one is looking. No time to get somewhere more secure, but this takes precedence. It’s unlikely that anyone who could trace his phone would fail to have learned about his flight, as well, so he may as well use his mobile now, while he’s somewhere they’ll expect.

As soon as he punches in the email, sends a quick _I'm home_ , a video chat request pops up, and Hayato accepts it immediately. The handful of seconds it takes to connect has his heart in his throat, but when the screen slides into focus, the face on the other end is every bit of reassurance he needs.

“Tenth,” he breathes, a little weak at the knees, and slumps back against one of the trees. Tsuna is smiling, but he looks entirely exhausted, face bruised and scratched. It’s clear he hasn’t slept yet, but still. _Still_. He’s alive and moving, and that’s all Hayato needs to know to be certain things are going to be all right.

“Hayato,” Tsuna returns in Japanese, warm and equally relieved. “You saw the news, then?”

“When I landed,” Hayato confirms in the same language, presses his thumb to the side of the phone like he wants to brush one of the smears of ash from Tsuna's face through the screen. “Are you okay, Tenth?”

Tsuna nods, image pixelating briefly with the motion. “Mukuro heard a rumor of what they were planning and was able to get word to Chrome in time. She got us out.”

Seven years ago, Hayato would have thought it was impossible that he would ever be grateful to Mukuro Rokudo for anything, but with the number of times the man has saved them all over the years—always under the guise of protecting Chrome or guarding his own interests, regardless of how thin the excuse may be—Hayato can't be anything else. Mukuro is Family by now, his own protests aside.

“The Family?” he asks, and he’s already taking in what he can see of Tsuna's surroundings, trying to judge where he is. Relocated to an ally, because that’s protocol when the mansion is attacked, but it’s too dangerous to say which one over any sort of unsecured channel.

Tsuna swallows, and just for a moment there's a curl of orange through the brown of his eyes, touching them with gold like a rising sun. It sends a shiver down Hayato's spine, makes his breath catch, because this is the Decimo, Neo Vongola Primo, rather than his best friend Tsuna. Neo Primo is one of the most feared men in the underworld for a reason, as whoever did this is doubtless about to find out.

“Six dead,” he says quietly, and Hayato closes his eyes, pressing a hand against his forehead with a grimace. High casualties, and Tsuna isn't like other bosses, who would write off the loss and keep moving. He probably knew every one of them by name, knew about their families, their dreams. That’s the kind of person Tsuna is. Hayato knows backgrounds, potentials, files; Tsuna knows _people_.

“Who,” he gets out, and it tangles in his throat, is all he can manage to say.

“The Endrizzi Family,” Tsuna answers, and Hayato bites his lip, trying to call up the name. A smaller Family, with a focus on smuggling and a foothold in Cavallino-Treporti, he thinks, but the memory is vague, not something he’s ever had cause to dwell on. Certainly not a previous source of trouble, which is a bad sign. They kept their plans hidden, bided their time, and struck when Vongola had no idea there was a threat. Hayato doesn’t like cunning in their enemies; it makes them all the more dangerous.

Raking his fingers though his hair, Hayato grits his teeth, then says, “I'm so sorry, Tenth, I should have—”

“No,” Tsuna says, quickly and firmly, and the Flames in his eyes are strengthening. “None of us had any idea, Hayato. Even the Varia haven’t heard anything about them. This isn't on you. It’s on the Endrizzi and no one else.”

The tight knot of grief and anger in Hayato's chest doesn’t ease, but the guilt does, a little. He has to remind himself that he isn't the only one in the Vongola, that he’s been occupied with overseeing a holding in New York City and couldn’t have gotten his regular reports. That it was an entirely necessary assignment, because the former—very, _very_ former, now—head of that Vongola branch was looking to strike out on his own and Hayato needed to make a strong show to keep the unrest down. He was the only one who could have gone, too; Takeshi needed to stay with Tsuna, because he always needs at least one of his Hands with him, and Ryōhei was in China, working out a snag with the Triads, while Chrome investigated the Tocci Family for possible human trafficking ties. Lambo is still only twelve, and can't be expected to take on the full weight of a Guardian’s duty or catch hints of danger that the rest of them don’t. It’s frustrating, it’s horrible, but they're human, with human limits and only so many ways their forces can be stretched.

“Hayato?” Tsuna asks, the concern clear in his voice, and Hayato takes a breath and shoves his hair back from his face, absently wishing for a moment to pull out his glasses and a hair tie. He needs to think.

“I'm fine, Tsuna,” he says, swallows at the truth of it, and has to push down the _I should have been there, I failed, I was_ gone _right when Tsuna needed me_. It’s not useful right now. “You? The others?”

Tsuna takes a glance over his shoulder, looking around the room before he turns back. “Secure for now,” he says, and it’s entirely exhausted. The explosion must have been early this morning, if Hayato is remembering his glimpse of the news footage correctly, and it’s after midnight now; Tsuna likely hasn’t slept at all, and been on high alert all day, Hyper Intuition at the forefront as he tries to keep their family safe in the aftermath. “Takeshi is asleep right now, but Chrome is with me, and she says Mukuro, Chikusa, and Ken should be here soon. Ryōhei is still tied up in negotiations, but Lancia got Mukuro's message as well and is on his way.”

Lancia. Hayato swallows, because if Mukuro called in Lancia whatever he uncovered must have alarmed him quite a lot. That’s an even worse sign. It’s also foreboding that Lancia actually agreed to come; he’s a traditional man, and leaves the welfare of the Vongola boss to the Vongola Guardians unless there's no alternative.

There isn't much of one right now, though, Hayato thinks, free hand curling into a fist that’s so tight his nails dig into his palm. The Guardians are scattered, only two out of five close enough to protect Tsuna from another attack, and there's no way that the timing here is a coincidence. The Endrizzi must have been paying attention.

“I'm still in the city,” Hayato says, and his voice is far steadier than he feels right now. “But I should be with you in—”

But Tsuna is already shaking his head. “No,” he says firmly. “Sorry, Hayato, but I'm safe and you don’t need to worry about me. The Endrizzi are our priority right now. As soon as Mukuro gets here we’re going to start planning a response to this attack, but I need you to find out if there's anywhere else they might be holed up besides their main base.”

Hayato likely should have expected those orders. He’s Tsuna's right hand, but he’s also the Vongola's Storm, at the very heart of the attack, never resting until the threat is destroyed. It’s his duty, and he’ll never waver in it, but—

There's still ash on Tsuna's face, and blood on the collar of his orange shirt. Hayato just wants to be next to him, supporting him.

That has to be Takeshi and Chrome’s job right now, though. Hayato has a different one to carry out.

“All right,” he says, and it comes out too rough, tangled on his tongue. Something like pain flickers across Tsuna's face, visible even over the grainy video feed, but before he can apologize Hayato clears his throat and asks, “When I find them?”

There's no question that he will.

The light of Sky Flames is rising again, burning hot and somehow impossibly comforting rather than scorching. Hayato has seen Skies who crush, who choke the life out of those who follow them, trapped in their expanse. Tsuna is nothing like that; he understands, accepts. Makes them better with his influence instead of overwhelming them.

Hayato saw that from the very first moment when Tsuna saved him. It’s the reason he swore his life away so readily, why he’s never wavered in the years since. Tsuna is the only Sky he’s ever wanted to follow, and the only one he’ll ever accept.

“When you find them,” Tsuna says quietly, accepting the silent promise, “wipe them out. The way they tried to do with us. I don’t want blood, but they killed our Family. That can't be forgiven.”

Hayato nods, doesn’t even hesitate. Tsuna giving orders to kill is few and far between, but Vongola hasn’t survived turning over a new leaf by allowing other Families to wage war against them. They're trying to clean up the mafia world, trying to bring Vongola back to what it was, but they’ll never manage that if they can't protect their own.

“Yes, Tenth,” he says formally, and the hardness fades a little from Tsuna's eyes, slips towards a mix of gratitude and regret.

“Thank you, Hayato,” he answers, and glances over his shoulder again, relief shading across his face. “I should go, Reborn just got here.”

The surge of relief hearing that brings is bone-deep and desperate. Reborn loves Tsuna like a son, even if neither of them will ever cop to it outright. If he’s there, Hayato doesn’t have to worry nearly as much; Reborn won't let Tsuna die. “Stay safe, Tsuna,” he says anyway, because there can never be enough wishes for that.

This time Tsuna's smile comes more easily, warm and fond. “You too, Hayato,” he says. “And you have backup coming. Do you think you'll be safe waiting there for another hour?”

Backup is a step further than Hayato expected, but of course Tsuna wouldn’t let him start on a mission like this alone. “Of course, Tenth. Someone is flying in?”

Tsuna nods, even as a hand settles on his shoulder, the cuff of a yellow shirt visible beneath the darkness of the expected suit jacket. “Kyōya should be landing soon,” he says, and just as much as Mukuro calling in Lancia, that speaks to how much danger this has put the Vongola in. It takes a hell of a lot to pry Kyōya out of Namimori whenever he goes back for a vacation. “He was on the plane as soon as he heard about the attack.”

It could be a lot worse, Hayato tells himself. He could have gotten stuck working with Takeshi. Or Mukuro. He’d much prefer Chrome, but Tsuna needs at least one Mist user with him in case something goes wrong. Well. _More_ wrong.

“I’ll pick him up once he’s on the ground,” Hayato promises. “Naples should be safe for at least that long.”

“Get out of the city as soon as possible,” Tsuna tells him, mouth tight and expression unhappy.

“I won't let civilians get caught in the crossfire, Tenth,” Hayato promises.

There's a snort, and Reborn leans down so his face is in the screen as well. “He’s not saying that because he’s worried about civilians,” he interjects, raising a brow at Hayato that’s a silent judgment leveled at his intelligence. “He’s worried about _you_. The Endrizzi are apparently a lot better at keeping under the radar than anyone would have thought, and there’s no telling where they’ve infiltrated.”

And it will be a lot harder to see an attack coming in a city as big as Naples, Hayato thinks, grimacing. “Sorry, Tsuna,” he says, and it’s maybe a little sheepish, but old habits die hard.

“Just be careful,” Tsuna tells him, biting his lip worriedly. “I wish I could send more people to you, but—”

A fist thumps down on top of Tsuna's head. “Stop it, Dame-Tsuna, you’re the one who needs numbers right now,” Reborn tells him over his squawk of surprise, and Hayato hides a smile. He’s ridiculously glad that Reborn is there. “Gokudera and Hibari have any secondary bases, but you have the main one. A good boss prioritizes.”

“Reborn!” Tsuna complains, and the screen shakes wildly as he ducks away from Reborn’s next swat. “I _am_ , but—”

“We’ll be fine, Tenth,” Hayato reassures him. “Tell the sword idiot that I’ll blow him into shark bait if he lets you get even one more scratch, though.”

“Hayato!” The feed steadies just in time for Hayato to see the roll of Tsuna's eyes. The worry has faded, though, and that’s worth the reprimand. Hayato beams at him, and after a moment Tsuna's exasperation collapses, giving way to a smile. “All right, I need to go. You should be able to reach me on this line if you need to, but—”

“Emergency only,” Hayato finishes for him, because he knows the way things work. “Get some rest, Tenth.”

The phone is plucked out of Tsuna's hands, and Reborn give Hayato a smirk. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything more stupid than normal,” he promises, and closes the connection before Hayato can respond.

Tsuna might still complain about his one-time tutor and call him a sadist, but between Reborn, Chrome, and Takeshi, Hayato can concentrate on tracking down the Endrizzi without going into a panic over Tsuna's safety. He breathes out, runs a hand through his hair, and switches his phone off, pulling the battery out and stowing it in a pocket of his carry-on. No need to make it too easy for the Endrizzi to find him, if they are tracking his cell. The airport isn't the largest, but Hayato is confident that he can disappear if he needs to, and stay out of sight long enough to meet up with Kyōya.

Maybe he has time to get something to eat as well, or several somethings, he reflects wryly as his stomach makes itself known. He’d been trying not to eat on the plane so that his body would get back to something of a normal rhythm, but if he’s going to be hunting the Endrizzi, it’s a lost cause. There isn't going to be any stopping until he’s found them, and he needs food to do that. Kyōya will likely arrive hungry, as well, given the time difference, and Hayato can't imagine a better way to get beaten around the head with a tonfa than to cloister himself away with a starving Hibari and no guarantee of immediate action forthcoming.

This whole mission is going to be a trial. Hayato is Tsuna's Storm, but he’s also his Right Hand. Heading to the front lines is reserved for times when the Family is under direct attack, and that doesn’t happen overly often. Kyōya is always out working, in contrast, and figuring out how to manage the difference is going to be less than fun.

Still. They’re both Vongola, and the Family is in danger. That’s all the motivation they need to work together, especially with a target readily available. The Endrizzi need to be stopped before any more Vongola members die, and they will be. Hayato will make sure of it from his end, and he knows Tsuna will be doing the same.

His faith in that will carry him over any obstacle.

 

 

In the press of the airport, even as it creeps towards the witching hour, it’s hard to tell if any other mafia members are hanging around. Hayato is cautious, but he can't lurk too much or he’ll get security called on him as someone suspicious—it’s happened more than a few times, because Hayato is twenty-two and looks like a punk even in a nice suit, which is fine for a mafia boss’s second-in-command but a pain when he’s playing civilian. Thankfully, there's a bar near the arrival gate that’s lowly lit and not too crowded, so Hayato stakes out a chair in the back corner, drops a fifty in the tip jar, and orders a glass of sparkling water. The bartender keeps her mouth shut, makes eye contact only to smile at him once, and then otherwise minds her own business.

Normally, Hayato would go a little mad with boredom, having to stare at the same patch of bar for an hour, but he keeps himself occupied by watching the flow of foot traffic outside the bar, marking repeats, and scribbling everything he can remember about the Endrizzi on a napkin in code. It’s not a lot—he’s definitely going to end up trawling through his contacts for scraps of information, which is always frustrating.

Huffing out a long breath, Hayato shoves his glasses up his nose with a knuckle, squinting at what he’s written like that will make the information multiply. Out of the corner of his eye, he marks a man who’s passed by the gate three times already, wandering slowly and not quite going anywhere in particular. He doesn’t exactly stand out—dark hair, middle-aged, a little heavyset in a way that’s likely more to do with muscle than fat—but while Hayato might not have the Vongola bloodline’s Hyper Intuition he’s good at picking out patterns, and that guy’s eyes invariably slide to the doors, to the arrival gate, to the section of the notice board where flights from Japan are displayed. Always in that same order, too—checking for a delay, maybe. Waiting for a friend, though, or for Kyōya?

He's also wearing heavy, laced boots, and Hayato can't tell if it’s a fashion statement or makes him a legitimate threat.

Hayato wants a cigarette. He wants to sleep. He wants more food than a granola bar snagged from a vending machine, but he’s not getting any of those things until Kyōya arrives and they can get the hell out of Naples. And if Mister Combat Boots over there is actually looking for trouble, Hayato will be more than happy to give it to him. At this point, the airport will probably be lucky to remain standing afterwards, even though Hayato _knows_ Tsuna's preference for a minimum of collateral damage.

He’s just about to lose it entirely, maybe stalk up to the guy and shake him just to see how he responds, when the arrival board flickers. The previously green letters announcing that the Namimori flight was on time turn red, and even with his glasses on Hayato can see the bright _Arrived_ glowing across the corridor.

The man catches it too. Hayato watches his eyes flicker to the board, then back to the gate, and suddenly it’s like he has nowhere else to be in the world. He leans back against the wall, propping one booted foot up against the paint, and checks his watch.

Hayato doesn’t trust those boots at _all_ , and he’s willing to bet the guy is Endrizzi. Or a hired gun, maybe, but given the bomb at the mansion Hayato is going to assume they don’t mind operating outside their territory. He pushes to his feet, grabbing his bag and reaching for one of the ceramic knives in the pocket. Bombs are going to have to wait until they're out of the city, but Hayato isn't helpless even without his regular weapons. Causing a scene won't do any of them favors here, but he doesn’t want Kyōya to be caught off guard. No matter how strong he is, it only takes a few seconds of someone else getting lucky to end everything.

Hayato _knows_ Kyōya, so it’s no surprise to see that he’s the very first figure behind the doors. He doesn’t bother watching the Cloud Guardian approach, keeps his eyes on the stranger instead, and sees the precise moment his hand disappears into his pocket. He tenses, launches himself forward across the hall even as the doors slide open, and body-slams Combat Boots into the wall as hard as he can. Combat Boots wheezes, and a long-bladed knife tumbles out of his grip, clattering to the floor as he goes down.

Clearly they didn’t bother doing their homework on Kyōya if they thought someone could take him down with _that_.

“Hibari!” Hayato calls, but he needn’t have bothered. Kyōya is already crossing towards them, the predator bleeding into his eyes as he tenses for a fight. They don’t have time for that, though, and Hayato takes his life into his own hands, grabs Kyōya’s sleeve, and drags him towards the door. “Come on, there might be more of them, and we can't fight in city limits.”

Kyōya makes a sound like a discontented cat, shakes off Hayato's grip, casts a glance back over his shoulder, and frowns. “Too many people to get in the way,” he agrees, like it’s distasteful, and Hayato rolls his eyes, not needing to look back to know that security is closing in already.

“Have you talked to the Tenth?” he asks as they burst out into the open air. Kyōya immediately turns, leading Hayato away from the main terminal and around several of the airport’s outbuildings. Hayato hesitates, but after a moment decides that Kyōya is the one with all the practice finding people who break rules in Namimori, and it probably works the other way around, too.

“Back in Namimori,” Kyōya says, then takes a sharp left turn, leaps a chain-link fence, and touched down lightly on the other side. It takes Hayato another moment to haul himself over, but he lands on his feet and immediately picks up a jog to keep up with Kyōya as he strides across a quiet road and into the city. As he goes, he pulls out—

“How did you sneak _tonfas_ on a public flight?” Hayato demands incredulously. He had to check his own luggage with the remainder of his bombs, and even that was only possible because of one of Chrome’s illusions on the bag itself.

Kyōya snorts. “I didn’t _sneak_ them,” he says, like the very idea is beneath him. “Several members of the Disciplinary Committee work at Namimori Airport.”

“Of course they do,” Hayato mutters, belatedly realizes he’s still wearing his glasses, and yanks them off and stuffs them into his bag. They have more immediate worries than Kyōya’s army of loyal worshippers, though, and Hayato forces himself to focus on that. “We need to get out of Naples. There's a safehouse halfway between Avellino and Benevento that should still be secure. Tenth wants us to find the Endrizzi’s secondary base.”

Kyōya grunts, which is about the response Hayato expected, and turns again, surefooted in the maze of streets. Hayato would never know he’d spent the last fourteen hours on a plane if he hadn’t actually seen him arrive, and he curses under his breath but picks up his pace.

Expected, he tells himself. Entirely expected. It’s _Kyōya_ , after all.

That doesn’t make it an ounce less annoying, though.


	2. Steady the roar of the gale

The closest safehouse is a farmhouse outside Gesualdo, and Hayato arranged the paperwork for it himself, bought the property through a shell company of a shell company so that Vongola's name couldn’t be linked to it, but he’s never actually visited it. It’s…small, he thinks, with just a touch of horror, as the farmhouse comes into sight through the hazelnut groves that march up the steep hill. _Very_ small, for being a place where he’s going to have to coexist with Kyōya. The roof doesn’t look very inviting, either, so that leaves Kyōya with one less place to haunt while Hayato works.

He definitely knew the size of the place at one point, Hayato tells himself, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. It’s just that he forgot, or maybe that he didn’t account for it. There was another safehouse in Canosa, but this one was closer, more secluded, the better choice after an eleven-hour flight and far too little sleep in the days beforehand. It’s _still_ the better choice, even if the farmhouse looks smaller than Hayato's old apartment back in Namimori.

With a huff, Kyōya drops his bag at Hayato's feet, draws his tonfas, and vanishes back into the neat rows of trees. Hayato bites back a snarl, snaps, “I'm not your _maid_ , you bastard!” but still leans down to pick up the duffle bag and sling it over his shoulder alongside his own. Cloud, he reminds himself, though it’s not enough to keep him from bristling. Logically he knows it’s for the best, that Kyōya is scouting the edges of the property and making sure they weren’t followed, but—

But he’s not a _maid_ , damn it.

Growling a curse under his breath, Hayato shoulders through the door, takes one look at the single-room layout of the house, and decides that he needs a cigarette, Kyōya’s aversion to smoking be damned. He held off the whole way here, but there’s one bed and no couch and a flagstone floor; one of them is going to be _very_ uncomfortable tonight, and knowing how Kyōya likes his creature comforts, Hayato's willing to bet it will be him.

_Still_. They're safely out of Naples, managed to duck the Endrizzi, and have a place to sleep and plot their next move. Things could be a hell of a lot worse, and Hayato tells himself to be grateful for small favors as he drops their bags next to the plain wooden table near the kitchen area. Morning is close, and for a moment he wavers, debating whether he should just pull out his computer and start working on tracking the Endrizzi. He’s tired, but if he sleeps now he’ll throw off his body’s clock entirely. All-nighters aren’t quite as easy as they were in high school, but they're productive, at the very least.

Cracking open the creaky old window, Hayato pulls his lighter out of his sleeve, his cigarettes out of his bag, and lights one. The first drag of nicotine probably shouldn’t feel so good—he knows he worries Takeshi and Tsuna both with his habit—but it’s a little like a burst of clarity, and he exhales the smoke on a sigh of relief, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

It’s enough clarity to realize that he won't get much done even if he _does_ start looking tonight. Putting in a few calls should be enough, should let him get a head start, and he has Kyōya’s secondary cell, which he uses for calls back to Namimori. The odds that an enemy capable of tracing Hayato’s cell even _knows_ about that phone are about the same as Kyōya giving up information under torture. Nonexistent, in other words.

Pulling it out of his pants pocket, Hayato stares at the blank screen for a long moment, wavering. What he really wants to do is contact Tsuna again, or even Takeshi, in case Tsuna is asleep the way he should be. It’s disorienting, being cut off from is usual position. Under normal circumstances, nothing could pry him away from Tsuna's right hand in this situation.

Nothing, he thinks a little grimly, but a direct threat and an order from the boss.

Contacting the rest of the Guardians is too big a risk right now; they're all going to be moving, rushing, and a moment of distraction could be fatal. Chrome and Takeshi have Tsuna, and Hayato's learned enough over the years about trusting his fellow Guardians to actually leave them with that job rather than trying to micromanage from half the country away. Mukuro isn't going to answer his phone for anyone but Tsuna or Chrome right now, or maybe Xanxus, and Ryōhei and Lambo won't have any information that Hayato doesn’t.

He breathes out another lungful of smoke, closes his eyes, and then shoves to his feet, pacing a tight circuit around the small room. Too much nervous energy, even given how tired he is, and there's nowhere to spend it, but Hayato tries his best to contain it, opens Kyōya’s phone and flips through a mental index of numbers he can call. Not Vongola or Varia, and the Simon and Cavallone are both out, because if they had known this threat was coming they would have told Tsuna. The Giglio Nero and the Gesso _probably_ would have, if only for Tsuna's sake, and Reborn will have already checked in with the former Arcobaleno.

That leaves Hayato with all the dregs of the mafia world, all the connections he made while he was searching desperately for a Family that would take him in. There are a lot of them, and now that he’s the second in command of the Vongola Family, they’ve completely forgotten how miserably they treated him in their rush to bend over backwards and do anything they can to help him. It would be funny, probably, if Hayato was better at compartmentalizing things.

He’s not, though, and the thought sits uneasily, like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

With a groan, Hayato tucks his cigarette between his lips, drags a hand through his hair, and throws himself into one of the chairs. His notebook is in the front pocket of his bag, buried underneath several folders and a bag of things he took from the rogue Vongola branch, and he drags it out, finds his pen, and pulls his hair back again. If he’s going to be dealing with assholes, he wants all of his attention on wringing them for information, not on the irritation of his hair in his face.

Weighing the loyalty of the Families based closest to the Endrizzi’s main base against their higher likelihood of knowing something is an exercise in circular reasoning and frustration, but there’s a _reason_ Hayato is Tsuna's right hand. He works out the factors, draws out the connections and decides that it’s best to start with the Families a fair distance from Cavallino-Treporti. Everyone will expect Vongola to be looking into the attack—Tsuna is a benevolent, gentle man, but harming his Family is _always_ taken personally, and he and his Guardians have a reputation for ferocity when crossed—so there's at least that much of an advantage, but Hayato still needs to keep his inquiries as quiet as possible. There's no need to give away their plan of action just yet.

His first call is to Shamal, because the asshole is a sleazy womanizer and an idiot but he’s a genius too, and he tends to pick up lots of rumors. The phones just rings, though, and Hayato makes a loud sound of disgust and hangs up as hard as he can without risking damage to Kyōya’s mobile. It’s tempting to keep calling back, but Hayato's too impatient to spend that much time on a greasy old pervert, so he mutters a curse at Shamal and starts working his way up the Families that populate the eastern coast.

Halfway through a tense call with the Rua in Jesi, the farmhouse door opens and Kyōya stalks in, tonfas nowhere to be seen. No enemies, then, Hayato assumes, and probably no innocent bystanders, either. Kyōya’s gotten better about leaving them mostly alone over the years, with liberal application of Tsuna's best puppy eyes. It would probably be amusing if it wasn’t so horrifying.

A lot of things about Kyōya are that way, Hayato's come to realize.

He doesn’t bother to lower his voice, because he’s _working_ , but he turns away a little, lets his voice and his smoke drift out the window instead of filling the room. “I'm not being _unreasonable_ ,” he bites out, knows it comes out just a little too antagonistic for the tone he’s been trying to keep, but really, at this point, fuck them. “Vongola helped you against the Cafaro last year. The least you could do is answer my damn questions!”

Before the man on the other end has a chance to answer, the phone is pulled right out of Hayato's hand. He snarls, grabs for it, but Kyōya’s already hit the button to end the call and is dropping the cell into the pocket of his suit jacket.

Hayato's temper is about as short as it was when he was a teenager, and he left his sense of restraint on the airplane some twelve hours ago. With a curse, he grabs for a stick of dynamite, his lighter—

A tonfa takes off the tip of the fuse and snuffs out the flame, and Kyōya says sharply, “I'm going to _bite you to death_.”

But he hasn’t yet. Hayato registers that in an instant, forces himself to step past the surge of absolute rage that’s filling his head right now, and breathes out sharply, angrily. Kyōya doesn’t move, watching him with narrowed eyes, body braced and ready to move. It’s a dare to continue things, but he isn't currently trying to beat Hayato black and blue, which means—something.

It’s only now that he’s on his feet that Hayato realizes how the world is swaying just a little bit.

Kyōya takes one look at his face and snorts, somewhere between smug and derisive. Turning away, he strips off his suit jacket, dropping it on one of the bedposts, and starts undoing his tie.

“Did you find them?” he asks.

Hayato bristles. “Not _yet_!” he snaps. “If you want to give me back the damn phone—”

The look Kyōya gives him just _dares_ him to make a grab for it.

Hayato harrumphs, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Kyōya’s fingers as they undo the knot on his tie. “No,” he says grudgingly, and stubs out his cigarette with a sense of pique. “I tried Families all up and down the coast, but most of them have never even interacted with the Endrizzi, and no one knows anything about their movements.”

“Hm,” is Kyōya’s only response, but at least it’s vaguely thoughtful rather than dismissive. He doesn’t bother removing any more clothes, just folds himself down onto the rather rickety bed, stretching out and closing his eyes. “Sleep,” he says. “You’ll be useless if you don’t.”

Hayato wants to pull his hair out—would, except it’s still up in a tail and there's no good way to get a grip. “That’s easy for _you_ to say!” he snaps. “Don’t I even get a pillow, you stingy bastard? If I'm going to be sleeping on the _floor_ so your royal ass can have the—!”

There's no time to react. Kyōya cracks one eye open, then uncoils like a striking snake. A hand finds the collar of Hayato's shirt, a foot hooks behind his knees, and Kyōya topples him face-first onto the far side of the mattress. Hayato gets a face-full of rather dusty pillow and squawks loudly, tries to scramble to his feet, and gets his face shoved back into the pillow before he makes it more than a handful of centimeters off the bed.

“Be _quiet_ ,” Kyōya tells him, and Hayato snarls, because that’s clear _amusement_ in his voice.

“ _You_ —!” Hayato splutters, surfacing again. He makes to grab for a stick of dynamite, a knife, maybe even just make a fist to punch the bastard right in his smug face.

Kyōya gives him an entirely unimpressed look, rolls over, and closes his eyes.

Hayato takes it back. He’d _much_ rather be working with Takeshi, because at least the baseball idiot has _some_ concept of manners.

Still. Hayato knows his own limits, and as much as it grates, as much as it makes him want to push and prod and _try_ , he knows winning a hand-to-hand fight with Kyōya is beyond them. All the of Tsuna's Guardians know how to hold their own at any distance, but Hayato is a long-range fighter, knows he’s brilliant at tactics and trajectories in a way he doesn’t have the patience to be up close and in someone’s face like Kyōya is. If he picks a fight like this, with Kyōya in arm’s reach and his tonfas on the bed next to him, he’s definitely going to lose.

It’s also just slightly possible that Kyōya has a point about needing sleep. Hayato's had too many sleepless nights the last few weeks, rooting out traitors and bringing one of the strongholds back under control, and between that and the added stress of walking back into a fight the minute he got home, Hayato is running on fumes. He’s logical enough to know that his mind will work better with some rest, but petty enough to want to push on through anyway, just to prove he can.

If he were still fifteen, he probably would. If he hadn’t learned that relying on the other Guardians isn't a weakness, that his limits exist for a reason and trying to blow past them only hurts him in the long run, he’d get up right now, take the phone, go outside and keep making calls.

Hayato is twenty-two, though, not fifteen. He’s learned a lot of lessons the hard way, and that’s made them stick. Chief among those is listening to people besides Tsuna and Reborn when logic says he should, and despite his pique at Kyōya, right now sleep is a good idea.

Closing his eyes, Hayato wills his temper away, ignores the brightening light of dawn outside the windows, and just breathes.

In the dimness, Kyōya’s breaths match his, and Hayato drifts.

 

 

The crash of breaking glass jars Hayato from the depths of unconsciousness, makes him grab for his bombs even as a lean body rolls right over the top of him. There's a flash of silver in sunlight, a dull thud as metal impacts flesh, and Hayato lunges out of bed and for his bag even as a pair of bombs leave his fingertips. A man in the doorway sees them coming and dives back outside, but not fast enough; an explosion shakes the building, and Hayato hauls the strap of his duffle bag over his head, stuffs his notebook into the pocket, and grabs for more dynamite.

Kyōya beats him out the door by a step, launching himself at a pair of men coming around the far side of the house. Hayato doesn’t stay to listen to the screams; there's another man carrying two pistols, and he levels one at Kyōya, one at Hayato. Flames spark, Sun-yellow, and Hayato curses, flinging a handful of mini-bombs right into his face and dodging left. They detonate in a cloud of smoke, and Hayato casts a glance back towards the main road. The farm is far enough from anywhere else that civilians getting in the way isn't likely, but if someone sees the smoke and gets curious, they’ll have a problem.

There's no time to worry about that now, though; more men are emerging from the trees, and Hayato can see Flames, weapons being readied. He curses, because exactly how many people can the Endrizzi _have_ while still flying below the Vongola's radar? They're supposed to be a small family, but this many Flame users seems ridiculous.

In a dark blur, Kyōya crashes right into the leftmost man, tonfas flying. He goes down with a shout, and Hayato takes advantage of the half-second of confusion, flipping six rocket bombs into the air and another handful of regular dynamite to cover them. A second too late, he catches the flicker of green Flames surging to life and swears, already shifting back, looking for the best angle to take out the Lightning user when this attack is inevitably blocked—

The man charges forward without even trying to take the damage for his companions as the whole host of dynamite goes off, forging forward instead and slashing out at Hayato with a trench knife.

Hayato is almost too surprised to block, only just manages to duck in time for the knife to pass over his head. Spinning, he stuffs a stick of dynamite down the man’s pants and kicks him hard in the small of the back, sending him staggering. One of the men Kyōya’s dealing with crashes headlong into him, and they go down in a tangle half a second before the bombs detonate.

The Lightning doesn’t block that, either, and Hayato scoffs.

“Even more useless than the cow-brat,” he mutters, taking aim at a man about to throw himself at Kyōya—and really, a stick of dynamite to the face is probably the better fate there. An axe with a flickering hint of Storm Flames swings at his head, and he ducks, slides to the side, and lets his own Flame surge so that the next blow makes the blade shatter, practically disintegrating in the man’s grasp. A step back for distance and Hayato lets another bomb go, not even bothering with more than one. There hasn’t been a single successful counter yet, and it’s getting a little annoying, even if it is to their benefit.

Still, there's something odd about this, even if Hayato can't put his finger on it. Something that itches at him like a burr, some bit of _not right_ that registers the same way a suspicious car on a deserted street might. The Flames, the headlong rush against two _Vongola Guardians_ without so much as a special technique between the ten of them—Hayato doesn’t like it at all. The Endrizzi shouldn’t have been able to find them. They shouldn’t be able to fight them. These men are all clearly low-level, and to send them against two of Vongola's best—

One of the men facing Kyōya goes down with a cry, but he doesn’t stay that way. He scrambles to his feet, but instead of turning to run he drops his bat and staggers right between Hayato and Kyōya. It’s a strange enough movement that Hayato jerks around to follow it, ready to react.

He’s not ready for the way blue Rain Flames spark, shift, _change_. They surge into red, then green, and the man screams, falling to his knees.

In a fraction of a heartbeat, Kyōya is suddenly in front of Hayato, plowing into him and throwing them both back into the trees. They hit the ground hard, rolling down the steep slope, and behind them the scream cuts off with jarring suddenness. There's half an instant where all Hayato can focus on is trying to catch ahold of something to stop his descent, the way Kyōya isn't trying to stop them—

Detonation.

The shockwave that rolls through the hazelnut trees is deafening, blinding. Some kind of high explosive, Hayato thinks, remembers the bomb in the mansion, and grabs Kyōya as the earth levels out, untangling their limbs and staggering upright as fast as he can manage. There’s earth and chips of wood raining down around them, smoke whirling out thick and choking to cover the orchard, and Hayato knows without having to see it that the farmhouse is gone, along with a big chunk of the top of the hill. Given the gradient of the ground, the way the force expanded, the feeling of the concussive blast, Hayato is willing to bet it was some kind of chemical explosive, but…

The Endrizzi member was screaming, and the chill that slides through Hayato settles in his bones.

Kyōya jerks away from his hold, shakes his head like he’s trying to clear the ringing from his ears—futile, at least for the next twenty minutes or so, Hayato knows—and turns like he’s looking for their enemies. There's nothing to see through the smoke, though, and Hayato jerks his head towards the road pointedly, sketching a car in the air with one hand. It gets him a frown, but Kyōya still turns back, falling into step with Hayato as he jogs towards the edge of the trees. That was far too big an explosion to pass under the radar, even so far from other people, and Hayato wants them well away before anyone calls the police.

There are three sleek black cars parked neatly in the driveway, and Hayato huffs in disgust. No guards, even, with the keys still in the ignition, and it makes Hayato's eye want to twitch, even if he controls the reaction. Better for them that the Endrizzi are sloppy, he reminds himself.

Though…overconfident might be the better way to put it. that explosion was definitely designed to kill them, and if Kyōya’s instincts were an ounce less sharp, it likely would have.

The Flames changed, Hayato thinks, dragging open the driver’s door and throwing his bag into the backseat, then himself into the front. Kyōya slides into the other side with a grimace, but he doesn’t protest as Hayato starts the car and pulls onto the road, forgoing subtlety in favor of getting the hell away from the scene. It’s hard to think about being chased, though, when he keeps seeing that strange flicker of Flames shifting again and again in his head. Rain to Storm to Lightning, and if there was another Hayato didn’t see it, but there was certainly time for it to cycle through more Flames while they were rolling down the hill.

Hayato's Flames don’t do that. He has all of them except Sky, and when he uses Systema C.A.I there’s no _change_ , he’s simply combining different Flames that already exist. It’s not something he’s seen happen before, and he doesn’t like it at all.

A tonfa smacks his shoulder, lightly enough that it barely stings bust still startling enough to make Hayato yelp. He jerks around, ready to yell, but before he can Kyōya says deliberately, “They found us,” and the words are slow enough that Hayato can read them on his lips instead of relying on his ringing ears.

Hayato grimaces, because the Endrizzi _did_ find them, and he has no idea how. They weren’t followed, they took the bus and walked so no one was tracking a car, their phones were off nearly the entire time. The Endrizzi also didn’t show up early this morning, when Hayato used Kyōya’s backup phone, so it’s probably safe to say they weren’t tracking that one, either. Vongola's name isn't attached to the farmhouse in any way, and finding it would involve digging through layers upon layers of legitimate companies that Tsuna's name has been entirely removed from. It’s improbable that the Endrizzi found them like that. Found them in _any_ way—Hayato is mafia, and has been all his life. He knows how to disappear when he needs to.

“I know,” he says, more to himself than Kyōya, and can't quite resist the urge to thump one fist against the steering wheel in sheer frustration that’s otherwise tightly contained. “I _know_. _Fuck_.”

He can see Kyōya huff, but he just turns away, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back in his seat instead of trying to keep talking. Hayato rolls his eyes, mutters, “Fucking helpful, thanks,” because there's no danger of Kyōya hearing it, and turns his eyes back to the road.

Any of the nearby towns are going to be too close for comfort, given that the Endrizzi apparently have a lot more men at their disposal than Vongola thought—emphasis, Hayato thinks with a wince, on _at their disposal_ , because the explosion was nothing less than the Family using that man as a weapon—so he makes a turn towards the coast. Two men who look Japanese are going to blend in better in the tourist-heavy coastal towns, and there's another safehouse in Mondragone that’s entirely unrelated to the farmhouse. It belongs to Shamal through an airtight alias, and not many people know about his connection to Hayato, especially since he’s not explicitly allied with the Vongola. If the Endrizzi manage to track them there, it’s not going to be through paperwork.

But—

If they knew where Hayato and Kyōya were hiding, what are the odds they haven’t found Tsuna and the others yet?

Hayato feels cold, and it takes effort not to let his hands shake. Something in his face must draw Kyōya’s attention, because the other man looks over at him, eyes narrowing, and tips his head faintly.

“Tsuna,” Hayato says in explanation, and has to swallow before he can add, “They found us, and had a plan to kill us. What if—”

He can't finish, but Kyōya’s mouth tightens ever so faintly. The set of his shoulders is a bit tighter than it was before, even as he glances back out the window. It’s reassuring to see, though it likely shouldn’t be—a reminder that, despite his attitude, Kyōya is just as devoted to Tsuna as the rest of them, and it makes Hayato take a breath that actually fills his lungs.

They’re going to have to ditch the car soon, Hayato tells himself, pulling his attention away from Kyōya. It’s too big a risk using one of the Endrizzi’s own vehicles. When they do, they can take a minute, and Hayato will email Tsuna again, make sure he’s still safe.

His fingers tighten on the wheel, and he breathes in, breathes out. One of Kyōya’s tonfas is tapping out a beat on his leg, and Hayato listens for a moment, glad for the distraction, before he recognizes it and has to force himself not to laugh.

Namimori Middle School’s anthem. Of course. And—it’s a silly little thing, objectively ridiculous coming from a grown man, in a moment when they’re fleeing the scene of an explosion with an enemy mafia Family out for blood, but…

It quiets the panic in Hayato's head, makes humor bubble to the surface instead, and he fixes his eyes on the road. Focuses on the plan, on what they’ll have to do, instead of what might have happened, and lets that carry him on.

For now, that’s the best thing to do. It’s the only thing he _can_ do.


End file.
